Galaxy - A Star Wars Collection
by Alex Ashton The Author
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... There was a vast universe of untold stories. This is a collection of just some of those untold stories. Inspired by "From a Certain Point of View", Galaxy is a writing challenge: the challenge is to write 12 Star Wars short stories in 12 months, with each story going up on the first Sunday of every month beginning March 1st, 2020.
1. Hunted

_Too-Whul III_

_8 Years After the Battle of Yavin_

**. . .**

The target was now in sight.

Torill had been sitting at one of the spaceport's quieter cafés for almost half an hour, just long enough to make it look like he'd been stopping by for a casual cup of caf and to take in the latest holonews.

Clad in a traveller's cloak, he kept his appearance simple: his greying hair was of short-to-mid length and swept back while his well-trimmed facial hair complimented his rugged features. He had the eyes of a younger man, a piercing jade green with flecks of amber. He was also in great shape – he couldn't afford to be anything less.

He looked perfectly casual. More importantly, he looked perfect for blending in. To anyone he looked like any other traveller – little did they know he was a well-trained bounty hunter armed to the teeth with various blades and blasters he could use in numerous ways to neutralise any species he could possibly encounter.

The terminal was a reasonably small spaceport on Too-Whul III, though even on a slow day it was easy enough to blend in. Torill had already counted several dozen civilians going about their daily lives, civilians representing numerous different species from all corners of the Galaxy.

Too-Whul III was the third and smallest moon in the Too-Whul system, a quiet collection of planets on the edge of the Outer Rim where people came to escape their old lives and start again. It was a place to disappear. It was a safe place – most of the time.

He watched his target descend down the passenger boarding bridge from the interplanetary Star Commuter transport that had shuttled passengers from Too-Whul Prime. The target was trying to blend in with the new arrivals as a picture-perfect refugee; he wasn't carrying anything in the way of luggage other than a small sack in his hand and he was draped in a long brown cloak similar to those being worn by other passengers. It was almost a professional look for someone trying to hide; the only problem was that even with the hood up he hadn't hidden his face well enough.

Torill waited until his target had moved further through the spaceport, taking another sip of his caf as he mentally ran through what little notes he had.

The target's name was Duine Zyrich. A human male standing at one-point-eight metres tall sporting dark brown hair that just barely reached down to the point where his head met his neck. His skin was slightly tanned and his eyes were dark – or at least that was his appearance in the holoimage Torill had been given. From his position just over twenty metres away, Torill could see that Zyrich's appearance hadn't been altered in any way.

Sloppy, he thought.

According to the bounty puck, Zyrich was wanted for bail jumping on Milvayne and had skipped over a dozen planets to evade law enforcement. None of it was of particular importance anymore – Torill had tracked his target well and had learnt where his next intended move was. He had beaten Zyrich to the system and had more than enough time to get into a position to continue tracking his target.

Things were about to be put into motion. It was time for Torill to change gears. He sat as casually as he had done for the past half hour.

Zyrich briskly walked past the café without so much as glancing around and looking like a tourist; he looked more like someone who was impatient and had somewhere they needed to be.

Torill waited until Zyrich was a good twenty metres past before he finished his caf and tucked away his holonews reader. He didn't quite match Zyrich's pace but he also didn't let himself fall too far behind, all while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He doubted Zyrich would have noticed anyway.

He followed Zyrich out into the somewhat busy street where he was greeted by the hot and harsh mid-afternoon sunlight reflecting off the dry, hard sandstone beneath their feet. Torill had to pull his hood up over his head to try and shield his eyes from the glare.

The buildings that lined the streets were quite reminiscent of Tatooine, Torill thought. He had only been to the planet a handful of times following trails on other jobs he was working. He hadn't much enjoyed his time there. Too-Whul III was an improvement, but only slightly; the buildings were a little less crude and general quality of life was better thanks to the planet's abundant natural resources. There was also a distinct lack of a "community junkyard" as the locals referred to it, the exclusion of which definitely aided the aesthetics by comparison.

After walking consistently for almost forty metres, Zyrich took a sharp right turn and crossed the street. It appeared as if he was going to walk into one of the buildings on the other side but he continued straight instead, occasionally half turning his head as if he was trying to look over his shoulder without making it look like he was looking over his shoulder.

He might think someone is tailing him, Torill thought. Maybe he's gotten paranoid after skipping so many planets. The sudden behaviour didn't even get a reaction from Torill; he simply continued at his own pace among the other citizens around him. He was confident that even the most trained eyes wouldn't have been able to pick him.

Zyrich's evasion technique carried on for several minutes before he made a more drastic move; he veered around a sharp corner into an alleyway that separated two buildings.

Torill had known this would happen sooner or later. While he didn't make any sudden movements, he casually made his way to the other side of the street and walked past the alleyway. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw that Zyrich was attempting to climb to the roof since the alley lead to a dead end. Torill knew that if Zyrich made it to the roof, it would make things slightly more complicated. Following Zyrich up to the roofs would expose Torill and give away that he was tailing the man that was already paranoid that someone was behind him. Chasing him up to the roof would only cause Zyrich to panic and that was something Torill couldn't afford.

Before he could even find a stopping point, Torill heard some sort of crashing sound coming from the alleyway. The sound caused him to stop and turn; thankfully, many other civilians had the same reaction. He turned around just in time to see a panicked Zyrich emerge onto the streets, cradling his left arm and rapidly glancing around.

Several people approached Zyrich to see if he was okay. He very quickly pushed them aside and began racing through the street.

Torill cursed sharply under his breath. His mind quickly proposed two options: to give chase or to continue taking the slow approach. While the slow, safe approach would be ideal, he knew there was going to be a chance that he would lose his target after having tracked him for so long.

Luckily for Torill, Zyrich sprinted off into another small passageway on the opposite side of the street. This gave Torill the perfect chance to speed up his pursuit while remaining out of sight. He jogged his way up to the alley and peered around the corner in time to see Zyrich stop and glance around when he had reached the opposite end. Obviously satisfied, Zyrich checked his hood and ducked into the next street.

Torill stepped quickly to get to the other end of the alley and peaked around the corner slowly on account of being not entirely certain of what would greet him. Zyrich was already halfway up the street but he had slowed his pace, now nothing more than a brisk walk, no doubt running out of steam after injuring himself. If Torill knew anything about tracking prey, Zyrich would find somewhere to hunker down and recuperate – and soon.

Sure enough, Zyrich slowed his brisk pace. He was a little ways out from a small sand coloured building sporting a shade that protruded over two crude round tables each with a pair of matching – for lack of a better term – stools. As he approached, he turned his head to quickly scan the surroundings. Seemingly satisfied once more, he lowered the hood of his cloak and ducked into the small café.

With Zyrich taking a rest, it gave Torill an opportunity to do the same. He knew he needed to stay close without getting too close. For the moment, the alley would have to do.

Torill hid in the shadows and sat against the wall, Zyrich's hiding place still in view. He didn't feel the need to keep himself busy while watching his target. He was used to sitting in one spot for an extended period of time. Torill searched around beneath his cloak for a ration bar. Chewing on the small bar, he continued to watch Zyrich, his mind working hard and fast formulating and altering plans for every possible situation that could occur from this point.

He had a feeling he wouldn't have to wait long, though. Zyrich's previous behaviour suggested he didn't like staying in one place for too long.

It only took one standard hour before there was any sign of movement inside the café.

Zyrich walked outside and replaced his hood, immediately breaking to his left to continue on down the street in the opposite direction from which he came.

The planet's sun was almost touching the horizon, casting long shadows on the ground. The streets were less populated. It was almost time for Torill to strike. He knew that Zyrich would eventually find a place to rest for the night. Torill could wait. He was patient. He was known for being patient.

With less people on the streets it was difficult to continue following Zyrich – difficult but certainly not impossible. Torill opted to remain even further back than he had previously.

He'd been following Zyrich for only a few minutes when, out of nowhere, Zyrich stopped. Torill kept walking, wary not to blow his cover. Zyrich turned his head slowly as if he was looking around, but something was different this time. He looked over his shoulder. Zyrich's eyes met Torill's. Torill was careful not to panic, but Zyrich's eyes didn't waver. Torill needed to look casual so he pulled out a datapad from under his cloak and tried to make himself look busy. Torill glanced up.

Zyrich was still looking directly at him.

Torill had been caught in situations where he thought he had been discovered before – it came with the territory – but this time felt different.

Zyrich refused to look away.

It threw Torill off.

He stole another glance up from under his hood.

It was difficult to see from this distance but it looked like Zyrich was… grinning.

No, Torill thought. It's not possible. I have been perfect. He was rattled.

At that moment, Zyrich broke into a sprint.

Torill spat a curse and chased after him, throwing caution to the wind. He was certain he had been spotted; there was no point being subtle any longer. He had trouble keeping up with the younger man, weighed down by the assortment of weapons and armaments strapped to his body underneath his cloak.

Zyrich pulled a tight turn, his foot slightly skidding in the loose sand.

Torill rounded the corner a few beats later. He got four long strides into the alleyway before he stopped dead in his tracks.

He'd vanished. Zyrich was gone.

It had to be some kind of trick. The passage was a dead end. There's nowhere he could have gone.

As he had those thoughts, he heard the sound of a blaster cocking.

Torill didn't even have time to turn around.

A single shot hit Torill in the back of his left shoulder, causing him to stumble forward. He drew his blaster pistol and swung around in time to see Zyrich descending from his hiding place; he had climbed up and spread his arms and legs to wedge himself in the space between the two buildings – evidently, the injury he had sustained was fake. Zyrich moved too fast. He kicked Torill square in the chest, knocking him to the floor with a thud.

Zyrich knocked the blaster from Torill's hand and crouched down over the injured hunter.

"Torill Solari," Zyrich said through an evil grin as he pulled back his hood. "The persistent killer. That's right, I know exactly who you are. And I know that you've been following me for quite some time now."

"And how exactly would you know that?" Torill grunted, wincing with the searing pain from the blaster wound to his shoulder.

There was a chuckle in Zyrich's voice. "Because I'm the one that commissioned the bounty so that you would come after me."

Torill's expression was one of visible confusion.

"You see," Zyrich continued, standing up again, "I'm somewhat of a bounty hunter myself. Nowhere near as renowned as the infamous Torill Solari, of course, but I'm slowly working my way there."

"Are you really doing this right now?" Torill interrupted.

"Doing what?"

"Monologuing. This isn't one of those holofilms where you can just-" He stifled a pained cry as Zyrich kicked Torill's wounded shoulder.

"The only reason I'm telling you is because I want you to be the first to know just how hard I worked to get you here to this very moment, laying on the ground helpless. The entire Galaxy will know that I'm the one that bested you. I faked the bounty and called in every favour I had to make sure you were the one who picked it up. I've been leading you around for weeks, dropping hints so that you would know where I was going and when I'd be there. Did you really think you were that good that you could find me?"

Zyrich was stalking around in the alleyway. He was making a show of himself. Torill knew this. He also knew that if he could keep Zyrich talking, he would find his opportunity. It was now just a matter of timing.

"Honestly," Torill said, "that explains a lot."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I was wondering why you were so easy to track."

The words struck Zyrich like a vibroblade to the chest. He turned towards Torill with a fire in his eyes.

"Easy? Easy?! You think I made those clues easy to find?!"

That's it, Torill thought.

Zyrich began walking back towards Torill, trying to make himself look bigger. At this point Torill wasn't even listening to the furious words Zyrich was spewing to try and recover his wounded pride; he was just waiting for Zyrich's lapse in judgement to bring just a few steps closer.

Three…

Two…

"Are you even listening to me, Solari?!" Zyrich took a final step closer, one of his feet planted on either side of Torill's torso as he reached down and grabbed him by the cloak, pulling him up until their faces met.

One.

Torill put his hand on the barrel of Zyrich's blaster and drove his knee up hard between Zyrich's legs. He connected with a piece of armour but the impact still caused the younger man to lose his grip on the blaster and stumble back a few steps, just far enough for Torill to prop himself up on one knee as he whipped the blaster around and aimed it back at its owner.

Zyrich had recovered, running and kicking Torill's hand and knocking the blaster to the ground. He threw another kick in Torill's direction who masterfully blocked with his forearms. A third kick came, a well-executed roundhouse aimed at Torill's head. He seized the opportunity and rolled out of the way, using the momentum to jump to his feet. Zyrich didn't let up. He came at the older man with flying fists.

It was quite obvious to Torill that the younger Zyrich was well trained in melee combat – he was almost impressed. Torill was sitting back playing defensive as he watched and analysed the way Zyrich moved. While the younger man had speed and power, he lacked accuracy and precision, some of his punches and strikes going wild. Playing defensive kept Torill on the back foot, slowly edging his way back to the end of the alley. He needed to create some space to be able to pull out a weapon. Torill knew his patience would pay off; he just needed to wait for an opening.

And the opening came.

Zyrich pulled back his right arm, cocking his fist and throwing it hard at Torill but the swing went wild over Torill's head as he ducked underneath and combat rolled out of the way. He reached up under his cloak and pulled a vibroblade from a sheath strapped to his back. Torill activated the sword, the forearm length blade humming to life in his hand.

It seemed that Zyrich had a similar idea. Seeing the sword in Torill's hand, he reached down and pulled a hidden dagger-like blade from his boot.

Zyrich charged again. His fury and determination was relentless. The two blades clashed as Zyrich slashed at Torill, the sound of metal striking metal bouncing off the stone walls and ringing out down the alley. He was slashing and thrusting but none of the attacks landed, Torill dodging and deflecting with the ease of a lifetime worth of training.

It was instinct. Second nature.

But his body was ageing. His stamina wasn't what it used to be.

Zyrich let out a roar, slashing hard. He almost knocked the vibroblade from Torill's hand, but the veteran held on – barely. Zyrich raised his foot, his knee at his chest, and kicked with all his might.

The sole of the boot connected with the middle of Torill's torso, sending him back several metres before he landed hard on the ground. His chest piece did almost nothing to protect his body from the impact, knocking the air from his lungs. He rolled to his side, gasping for breath.

"You're getting old, Solari." Zyrich was grandstanding again. He slowly walked to the wounded warrior, gloating again. "How the mighty have fallen."

Torill had rolled onto his front, one of his arms propping him up. He heard Zyrich standing over him, the dagger vibrating in his hand.

Zyrich raised his hands over his head, blade firmly in his grasp. His voice was quieter, spoken through gritted teeth. "Enjoy retirement."

Btchoo!

A single shot rang out.

Zyrich faltered backwards with a few unsteady steps, his eyes wide, his expression pained. He dropped his vibroblade and fell to his knees, his head hanging slightly and his breathing heavy. In his abdomen was the smouldering wound of a blaster shot.

Torill was on his back. In his hands was the blaster he had relieved Zyrich of minutes earlier, the sand still falling off the weapon's barrel as he slowly got to his feet. He was almost certain that Zyrich didn't have the energy to use the blade at his side, but he kicked it a little further away – just in case. He knelt down in front of the wounded man. "It's a shame that it came to this, but you had to know when you made that fake bounty that one of two things was going to happen," Torill said with a soft voice. "You're skilled, but your ego got the better of you."

He didn't speak. He didn't move. His eyes were bloodshot. Zyrich was taking his last laboured breaths.

Torill stood. "Such a waste," he said as he turned and walked away, collecting his effects. Sheathing his sword and holstering his blaster, he stood at the opening of the alleyway and looked back. He watched as Zyrich's now lifeless body slumped and fell forward.

He held Zyrich's blaster in his hands. It was an X-8 Night Sniper, one of the rarer BlasTech weapons, with an off-white handle, the main body a meticulously cleaned gun-metal grey and the muzzle a slightly scuffed silver. Torill turned the blaster over; he couldn't bring himself to throw away such a finely crafted weapon. He tucked it away in one of the pockets in his cloak.

The streets were darker and empty, the sun barely visible beyond the horizon. The stalls were closed, the residents were home.

He began the trek to the spaceport where his ship waited. His sturdy boots crunched on the sandy ground of the quiet streets, lit by the last fading rays of sunlight as the lamps on the street, few and far between as they were, began to illuminate.

Within the hour, Torill had returned to his ship, lowering the boarding ramp and climbing inside, slumping into the pilot's seat. The veteran hunter was exhausted. The encounter with the younger Duine Zyrich was more draining than he had expected.

He pulled out the blaster he had acquired from the young hunter, delicately handling the weapon with care as he admired the quality of the craftsmanship.

Torill had owned one of these blasters when he had first begun his own bounty hunting career. In fact, it was the first blaster he had ever owned. They weren't nearly as rare back then. As he gazed over the exquisite detail, he remembered the young man he used to be, all the adventures he had experienced.

Every fibre of his being was telling him that it was time to hang up the blades and the blasters and to retire.

But where was the fun in that?

* * *

_The challenge has begun!_

_I gave myself a challenge that began March 1st, 2020 - and that challenge was to write and post one short story a month for the next 12 months._

_The challenge itself was inspired by the book "From a Certain Point of View" with the sense that not every story in the Star Wars universe is an epic tale filled with heroes and villains; it's a vast universe filled with characters from all walks of life who have their own stories to tell._

_On another note, this is meant to be a challenge to test myself in the sense that I hope that no two stories will be the same. I want to push my own boundaries and see what sort of styles I can write and what stories I can tell and how I can tell them._

_With all that said, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy at least some of the stories I have to tell. You may like all of them, or you may only like one of them, but my hope is simply that at least one of them speaks with you enough to follow this journey and see what comes next because this is going to be an interesting ride, and it will no doubt be eye-opening to see where I've started to where I end up in a year's time._

_~ Alex_


	2. Blackwing Squadron

_Endor's Orbit_

_4 Years After the Battle of Yavin_

**. . .**

The cockpit of his TIE Interceptor shuddered as the enormous green laser blast tore through the dark space above his head. The super laser struck its target, piercing the stone-grey hull of the Rebel Alliance's cruiser which burst into a ball of orange and white flame. The explosion quickly subsided as the remnants began sheering away and drifting into space; it was now presenting new obstacles for the fighters currently engaged in combat.

He quickly turned his attention back to the battle at hand.

Bolts of red laser fire grazed past his wing; he quickly manoeuvred out of the way of the oncoming fire with a sudden jerk of his controls. His fighter lurched and strained with a high-pitched whine as he pulled a tight curve, swinging around to catch the much slower X-Wing off-guard. He pressed the buttons on his control stick and let loose a volley of fire in return, striking the enemy fighter several times before the small white ship exploded in front of him.

Within moments, he was quickly on the tail of another enemy fighter. He took aim at one of the Y-Wing bomber's dual thrusters glowing through his octagonal viewport. As the laser blasts hit, the fighter began an uncontrolled spiral, diving out of his view and towards the hull of a Rebel cruiser below.

"These Rebels just won't quit!" The gravelly voice of Blackwing Delta cut through the comlink and directly into Alpha's ear.

"It's just more target practice," Alpha encouraged. His keen eyes picked out Delta's Interceptor in the distance with a Rebel A-Wing fighter coming up on him. "Careful, Delta. You've got one on your tail."

"I see him." Delta's fighter swung and rolled out of the way as a volley of laser fire barely missed the hull. The A-Wing pulled a tight turn to keep up. "He's on me pretty tight."

Without warning, a pair of green laser blasts impacted with the rear of the small Rebel fighter which then burst into a fireball, a TIE Interceptor flying at full speed tearing through the space where the opposing A-Wing once was.

"Thanks, Gamma," Delta sighed. "I owe you one."

"You already owe me one for Tygon," he replied. Alpha could tell by his voice that he was wearing his trademark mischievous grin.

A warning began chirping in the cockpit of Alpha's Interceptor indicating that an enemy fighter had locked on. Alpha regained his focus. "Enemy fighter has a lock. Can anyone see it on me?" He twisted his control stick hard to the left and spun away before jerking the controls back towards himself to bring the ship around.

"X-Wing coming in hot at point-twelve," Beta reported. "Keep that fighter moving, I'm almost there."

Alpha couldn't see Beta but he had full confidence that she was close by. He knew that his fighter could easily out speed the much slower X-Wing but the proton torpedoes the ship was about to let loose would catch up to him with no effort. He was throwing the Interceptor around in all directions trying to break the lock but to no avail. All he could do was zigzag back and forth in order to buy time for his wingmate.

On cue, Beta's TIE Interceptor screamed by overhead and destroyed the enemy craft that was trailing him. "Threat neutralised, Alpha."

"Nice shot, Beta," Alpha said.

"Anytime," she replied. "I got your back, Alpha."

The voice of an Imperial Officer cut into the comlink channel, his commanding voice reporting the situation directly into the ears of the pilots. He didn't shout but his voice was stern. "The Death Star's shield has been disabled. Engage and wipe out those fighters before they can do any damage to this battle station."

It was at that moment that Alpha spotted a spearhead of fighters charging right for the vulnerable points of the still under construction hull of the Death Star.

Anger filled Alpha. His vision went red. He threw his throttle down hard, pushing his Interceptor to its limit, the twin ion drives screaming. As he drew closer, he witnessed a handful of fighters disappear through the hole, followed by a handful of TIEs. Alpha gritted his teeth. At this point, he didn't even know if the rest of his squad had followed him or not. He pressed hard on his firing controls letting loose volley after volley of laser fire. He managed to clip two Rebel fighters that lost control and exploded against the hull of the battle station creating fireballs that forced the few trailing fighters to pull up and veer away.

Alpha gave chase.

He saw a Y-Wing; he saw an X-Wing; he saw a B-Wing. He took them all down with the speed and precision of a pilot fueled with rage. The Rebels couldn't keep up with the venerable leader of Blackwing Squadron.

A voice cut through on his comlink.

"I'm hit!"

It was Gamma.

The sound of his squadmate shouting in his ear made him snap back into the moment. He could hear how shaky Gamma's voice was.

"Gamma, where are you?!" Beta called.

Alpha saw him; he saw Gamma's Interceptor. The fighter was spinning wildly out of control as an A-Wing gained on him.

"Alpha. Delta. Can either of you see Gamma?" Beta asked frantically.

"Negative," Delta reported.

"I can't shake him-"

It happened in slow motion. He saw the A-Wing discharging its twin laser cannons. He watched as the two orange streaks of laser fire struck the rear of the small TIE Interceptor. He heard Gamma's voice fizzle out into static. He was completely helpless as the grey and black fighter exploded into a small orange and white fireball.

"Gamma?!" Beta was distressed.

"He's gone," Alpha said. His voice didn't betray any emotion; swirling around inside him, on the other hand, was a tornado of grief and anger. They all knew, everyone knew, that TIE Fighters were incredibly flimsy. But it did nothing to alleviate the pain of losing a comrade.

Alpha kicked his Interceptor into high gear and raced towards the enemy A-Wing that had slain his squadmate. The enemy fighter must have spotted him though, spinning off before its thrusters glowed brighter and the small ship began to pull away. Alpha spat a curse at the nimbler fighter and pressed hard on his fire controls, spewing bolts of laser fire towards the Rebel fighter but to no avail. All of a sudden, the small red and white vessel pulled a sharp turn and began charging towards Alpha. His instincts kicked in, spinning out of the way as a volley barely missed his hull. He returned fire, a single stray shot striking one of the fighter's unshielded rear stabilising fins though no critical damage was inflicted. The Interceptor lurched as Alpha gave chase but the enemy A-Wing was too fast.

"Alpha! Come in!" Beta called over the helmet comms. "Don't get in over your head. You know it won't end well."

He grunted in response, mostly to himself, before replying. "Converge on my position," he said, watching the A-Wing pull further away through his viewport. "We're more effective as a squad."

The two Interceptors fell into formation behind Alpha.

"We need to hit one of these capital ships," Alpha said. "If we can inflict enough damage, we might be able to soften them up for the heavy artillery."

"Lead the way," Beta acknowledge.

"Right with you, Alpha," Delta followed.

Alpha spotted a large Mon Calamari star cruiser that was fighting off an advancing Star Destroyer on the outer edges of the battle. The Imperial cruiser was firing turbolasers off the port side, bombarding the Rebel capital ship but to no avail, the strong shields keeping the Star Destroyer from causing significant damage – and Alpha suspected why. "I'll bet that ship isn't shielding its engines," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. Alpha briefly switched comm channels and contacted the Imperial ship. "Imperial Star Destroyer Indomitable, this is Blackwing. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Blackwing. This is Admiral Mardin." His voice was coarse and rough, no doubt from years serving in the Imperial Navy, leading ships into battle and straining his voice shouting at his subordinates. Alpha could appreciate that. It was the sign of a man who wanted results.

"Indomitable, keep up your fire on that cruiser. My squad and I are going to use your barrage as a distraction while we go in fast and try and cause some damage. If we're successful, we should be able to serve you up an easier target."

"Acknowledged, Blackwing," Admiral Mardin confirmed with a grunt.

"Standby. Blackwing out." Alpha switched channels again. "We have our target. Follow me in."

The engines of the three Interceptors' howled as the nimble fighters charged towards their new objective, the nearby Star Destroyer increasing the intensity of its bombardment and drawing itself closer to the enemy cruiser.

Flying in formation, the trio swung around on the outside of the Indomitable's starboard side. The fighters were using the Star Destroyer's laser fire as a cover to avoid being spotted – and it worked. The Mon Calamari cruiser continued focusing their return fire on the Star Destroyer as Blackwing Squadron dove and spun under the bow of Indomitable. They emerged from the underside of the Indomitable and charged towards the Rebel cruiser's enormous cluster of engines. Alpha let loose a volley of fire and as it connected with the thrusters, his judgement was proven correct. Pieces of the gigantic cylinders began sheering away as Blackwing Squadron unleashed a torrent of unrelenting fire. One, two, three, four – the Mon Calamari cruiser's collection of thrusters exploded as the ship's stern began to fall apart.

"Admiral Mardin, this is Alpha. Engine's disabled. She's all yours."

"We'll take it from here."

He heard the Admiral call to his crew before he switched channels again. He relished in the spectacle he viewed through his cockpit as he watched the hail of turbolaser fire impacting and exploding through the curved grey hull of the sleek Rebel cruiser. It took seconds for the ship to rupture, an explosion tearing the ship in two.

The squadron charged back towards the battle that had continued to unfold without them. The space around the Death Star was becoming densely populated with the remnants of starfighters, both Rebel and Imperial. They had to swerve around shattered TIE Fighter wings and drifting X-Wing bodies to rejoin the fight.

It was easily the biggest battle Alpha had ever seen, and it was certainly far bigger than any he had ever been a part of.

His train of thought was cut short by an explosion in the distance that caught his eye. It must have caught Beta's too. "Look, there," she said. "Dead ahead."

It was the Executor, Lord Vader's personal Super Star Destroyer. There was a fireball emanating from one of the flagship's shield generators mounted above the control tower. Mere seconds later, there was another explosion. They spotted a small red and white speck of a fighter spiralling out of control and colliding with the ship's Command Bridge. A plume of orange flame began spewing from the hole left by the fighter. The gigantic flagship's nose dove as it began an out of control descent.

Blackwing Squadron watched, frozen in horror, as one of the Empire's mightiest creations plummeted towards the hull of the Death Star. Within moments, the tip of the Executor impacted against the Death Star's quadanium steel plating and exploded into a colossal ball of fire.

The Executor was no more.

For the first time in his illustrious piloting career, Alpha felt something shift inside of him. He could feel the tide turning. He could feel the battle shifting in the Rebels' favour. The Empire that he had grown up with, the Empire that he had fought for in countless battles, the Empire that had surprised and overwhelmed the Rebels only a short time ago were starting to lose their grip.

Alpha was pulled out of his daze by the panicked voice of an Imperial Officer in his ears. "The Death Star's reactor has become unstable! All fighters, pull back to your cruisers for an immediate retreat!"

"We need to get out of here," Beta said. He could tell that she was distraught. She spoke calmly but, in a way, that Alpha knew she was deeply upset – maybe even angry.

Beta had always been the voice of reason within the squad. She was the one who managed to pull him out of the "red rage" he so often fell into when he had started to lose his composure – just like he was at that moment, for the second time in this battle alone.

Every fibre of his being told him to fight on, to inflict as much damage to the remaining Rebel fleet as he possibly could.

"Alpha," she said in a soft voice. "There's nothing more we can do."

He couldn't resist her pleas. Beta had been his greatest ally, companion and squadmate since the training academy all those years ago. She was one of the most gifted pilots he had ever seen and was his first choice when he was tasked with creating an Ace Pilot wing. They had been through many campaigns together, and though they had lost members of Blackwing Squadron in the past, Alpha and Beta had remained. And if it wasn't for her calm composure that reeled him in during those missions, Alpha might have been one of those pilots who didn't return.

"Fall back," he eventually commanded with a sigh.

The trio turned sharply and began straight towards the nearest Imperial Star Destroyer which had also begun turning, no doubt preparing to make the jump to hyperspace.

It pained Alpha to see the remaining Rebel cruisers also pulling away from the Death Star. The thought of them escaping after such a treacherous act tore him up, but Beta's words repeated in his mind.

For a brief moment, everything seemed to go quiet. Alpha wasn't quite sure what was happening until an explosion took place behind him. His fighter shook violently for a second until the deafening sound of the blast caught up with him.

There was no question where the explosion had come from.

It was the Death Star.

The Rebels had destroyed the Death Star.

Again.

"Don't look back," Alpha said. "Don't. Look. Back."

His fighter slowed as he pulled into the hangar, the two remaining members of his squadron close behind him. He had barely climbed out of his fighter when the Star Destroyer lurched and shot off into hyperspace in a desperate retreat.

Somehow, against all odds, the Rebels had done it again. They had destroyed the Death Star. What should have been the Empire's greatest symbol against the Rebellion had now been torn down by traitorous Rebels for the second time in almost 5 years.

Alpha hadn't been there to witness the destruction of the first Death Star but he had known many pilots that were on the battle station when it had happened.

He removed his helmet and threw it at the floor of the hangar out of frustration. The helmet wrenched free from the oxygen tubes and clattered against the floor of the hangar. He was frustrated; he was hurt. There was pain in his head and in his chest. Alpha didn't fail often, and on the very rare occasion he did, he was hard on himself. Most times, in fact, he was harder on himself than any of his superiors.

He inhaled deeply and tried to steel himself. With a long exhale, Alpha regathered his helmet and turned it over in his hands. He gazed into the two black eyes that were staring back at him. He had spent most of his life looking through the eyes of his helmet but very rarely had he seen the eyes from the outside. And in those eyes, he saw his entire career, both the victories and his defeats – but more than that, he saw the dedication and determination with which he had served the Empire. Alpha pulled the helmet over his head and stood tall.

When he turned around, the remaining two members of Blackwing Squadron were standing in front of him, their legs shoulder-width apart and hands behind their backs. And then he saw something behind them.

In the hangar were legions of Stormtroopers and Pilots and Officers.

The Empire was not gone.

Though they may have just suffered a major defeat with the destruction of the Death Star, the Empire itself had survived to fight another day. And that's exactly what would happen. The Empire would retaliate, the Empire would fight, and Alpha was confident that the Empire would emerge victorious.

When the time came, Alpha would be there. With Blackwing Squadron flying beside him, he knew that he would have his chance and that he would have his revenge. No, the Empire would have its revenge.

This fight was not over.

The Rebels would not get away with this.

Not again.

* * *

_This story - despite, in my eyes, not being entirely finished the way I want it to be, or not being perfect - is essentially the foundation of this challenge and this project. It's the first idea I had that started with the inspiration of "From A Certain Point Of View" in that I knew this would fit almost perfectly into a book of that nature._

_If there was a Return of the Jedi version, I have no doubt a story like this could seamlessly fall in line with the other stories: it takes place during the events of the films, it relates to and references key events, and it's an expansion on the movie itself._

_I guess, in a way, this story represents a goal of mine. And that goal would be that if there ever was a Return of the Jedi book that followed along the same lines as "From A Certain Point Of View", this story would be my contribution._

_Obviously, that's a massive goal and one that is incredibly unlikely, but I've never been one to dream small. I always dream big and I always shoot for the stars._

_~ Alex_


	3. Walker

Talossa

2 Years After the Battle of Yavin

. . .

Wrrrrrrrr-kaCHUNK.

Kavis didn't know what he had done to be this unlucky. The team had expected there to be some kind of resistance, but no one was expecting this.

He could see the towering monstrosity lumbering through the thick forest, trees groaning and crunching as they were crushed underfoot. His knees were aching. He was crouched as far as the joints in his body would allow. Ten minutes was a long time to be locked in one position.

Kavis was a slightly taller than average man in his late twenties. He sported shaggy dark blonde hair and always kept his facial hair close, never longer than a few days growth and rarely ever shorter. He had been fighting with the Rebellion for a little over a year and a half. Upon seeing his natural born leadership skills, he had been placed in charge of his small squad of Rebels just a handful of months ago.

Through the small gaps in the leaves, he managed to – just barely – pick out three dark green helmets belonging to members of his squad. Thankfully, they were blending in well with the leaves around them. It gave him hope that those up above wouldn't be able to spot them either.

"I hoped I would never see one of these things in person." The voice spoke through the communication device hanging around his neck. It was the soft voice of Shynan Lasena. She was a young Theelin of pale skin with an almost lavender hue. There was a small collection of horns protruding from her temples, above which sat luscious cyan hair. She was a captivating creature by anyone's standard; she had plenty of admirers in the Rebellion.

Kavis was worried for the young girl. She was barely nineteen years of age. She must have been terrified.

"Do you think they've spotted us?" She asked.

"If they'd spotted us, we would've been atomised already," a gruff voice replied. It was the oldest member of the team, a human male by the name of Pax Noval. He was in his mid-forties and had been fighting with the Rebellion since before the establishment of the Alliance. He was a man with strong features, dark brown eyes and black hair that had just started showing flecks of grey.

The AT-AT stalked through the forest.

"Just a few more minutes," Kavis said into the comlink.

The walker had been deployed from an Imperial carrier a little over ten minutes ago. An explosion at one of the facilities the Rebels were targeting had triggered the deployment. Two more explosions in quick succession had taken place before the carrier had finally appeared, at which moment the squad had gone to ground in the hopes they hadn't been spotted yet. Now the walker was tracking towards one of the last untouched sections of the facility – the same facility that the team had been tasked with attacking.

If Kavis had to guess, the walker had been deployed as a deterrent rather than to actually cause any damage.

Another tree toppled over as the giant foot of the AT-AT struck the trunk. The walker was a little under fifty metres away at this point. If it continued on its current trajectory, it would come within ten metres of the squad's position.

"Everyone give me a quick check in," Kavis said. He just wanted to break the silence.

"Lasena here."

"This is Noval; I'm good."

"Spar here too." Rixa Spar. Human male in his late twenties. His defining features were his brilliant blonde hair and his incredibly strong jaw.

"And Daws." Mao Daws had just turned thirty a few days ago. He was the shortest member of the group. Being an ex-military man, he liked to keep his dark hair short and his moustache well taken care of.

"Volsh is here as well." Although Kavis didn't know anything about the younger man, he knew that Keenan Volsh was around twenty-three, twenty-four and that the he took great pride in his looks. His beard was always immaculate, kept at a consistent length and always looking freshly cleaned. Even his hair was never out of place, long on top and slicked back while the sides were shaved down to stubble.

"And Amavia checking in." Rounding out the team was Alluria Amavia. A beautiful woman in her mid-twenties, she had sparkling brown eyes that matched her healthy brown hair. Dotted across her nose and spilling onto her cheeks were a collection of pale freckles.

Truthfully, Kavis had found Alluria incredibly attractive since she had joined the Alliance only a few months ago – though he had chosen to keep those thoughts to himself.

With Alluria's check in, the whole team was accounted for.

"I think it's past me," Shynan said.

"Hold a little longer," Noval said.

"Noval is right," Kavis chimed in. "If we move too early, someone could spot us. We need to wait until it's far enough past so everyone can move at once."

Shynan let out a little grunt of disapproval but said nothing of it. Kavis knew she was getting frustrated – they all were – but there was nothing that could be done about it.

"We should be clear to move in about two minutes." It wasn't an exact time but he was confident it would settle Shynan's mind. He couldn't fault her for it – she was the youngest member of the team and her mind was no doubt just as restless as she was.

The next one hundred and forty seconds passed by without any excitement and was almost completely silent aside from the ambiance of a forest and the toppling tree every now and then – Kavis had counted seven. It had been almost two and a half minutes but now it was finally time to move, much to Shynan's delight.

The walker had moved almost twenty metres past Kavis' position and was still heading in the direction of the Imperial facility. It was positioned perfectly, the head facing the exact opposite direction to where the Rebels were located.

"It's time to move," Kavis said.

It took barely two seconds for six other figures to spring up through the thick undergrowth. All the members of his squad were wearing matching outfits consisting of a pair of long camouflage cargo pants with a matching jacket that was covered by a beige vest; Volsh, Spar and Daws completed their ensembles with large camo-print overcoats.

Kavis readjusted the pack on his shoulders and hefted his blaster rifle in both hands. He gazed up at the AT-AT that continued slowly trudging along, its heavy footsteps thumping and resonating through the forest. "We're not going to be able to tackle the facility with that thing bearing down on us." He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Do we abandon the mission?" He didn't turn to see who had walked up behind him but he guessed it was Volsh, the least experienced member of the team.

"No." Kavis somehow managed to draw the word out into two syllables. "Not yet."

"What if we try to take it down?" Shynan asked.

"We don't have the kind of firepower that we'd need to bring down a walker of that size," he said. But it gave him a thought. "Although…"

"What if we hijack it?" Noval said.

Kavis turned to look over the squad, observing the man power he had at his disposal and the equipment he knew everyone had packed. "It wouldn't be easy by any means. Climbing that thing alone will be a huge challenge. Getting inside would be just as hard if not harder. And on top of all that, we would then have to contend with whatever forces they have hidden inside."

Daws hoisted his heavy blaster onto his shoulder. "Sounds like my kind of mission."

Kavis scratched his chin. "Okay. I won't force any of you to take part in this mission. If you want to walk away and don't want to get involved with what's about to happen, now is your chance."

No one showed any sign of hesitation.

He nodded. "Alright then. Everyone should have a pair of magnetic climbers in their kit. We're going to need to use them to climb up the walker's legs."

"How do we get inside, though?" Alluria asked. "There's no way we could cut our way through that armour without someone noticing. It would take way too long."

"There's two hatches we can try and access," Daws said. He pointed to two points on the walker. "One is a maintenance hatch on the underside of the main body but it won't be easy to reach with magnetic climbers. The other is an observation hatch on the top of the hull just there on the back end of the torso."

The squad was listening intently, mentally taking notes of what he was saying.

"Once we get inside," he continued, "our best-case scenario is that it's a skeleton crew of a few pilots. Worst case scenario is that that thing is full of Imperials. So, expect the worst and prepare for that situation."

Kavis stepped forward, satisfied that Daws was finished with his explanation for now. He took in a deep breath in and looked around at his team. "It's time to go."

Everyone nodded and at once the squad broke into a quick jog. The AT-AT had extended the distance to a little over twenty-five metres away. The ground was uneven. Twigs and leaves made for unsteady footing, and at least two fallen trees lay between the Rebels and the walker, but they pushed to reach the foot of the lumbering metal beast within a minute.

Now it was time for the first challenge – jumping on the gigantic metal foot.

From a distance, the AT-AT was a fear-inducing creation. Even more so up close. The durasteel monstrosity was just over twenty-two metres tall and was built to withstand almost anything short of a proton torpedo. Even then, it would take quite a few passes to deal enough damage to bring the walker down.

It was even more intimidating to be standing at its feet.

Members of the squad needed to time their jumps onto the beasts' back feet. Half of the squad congregated on one side, the second half on the other. Because the walker moved so slowly, there was a small window of opportunity to climb aboard the plate-like toes before jumping onto the foot itself; it took almost eleven seconds for a foot to move after it had been planted.

The hydraulics of the back-right leg moved the joints with a cacophony of hisses and whines. With a thunderous thump, the foot returned to the ground.

Noval pounced on the opportunity. He gained speed and leapt, the magnetic climbers on his hand thunking onto the durasteel plating. Using his feet, he scrambled onto the flattest surface he could find, one hand magnetically clamped to the walker and the other ready to assist the next person to jump.

Daws mirrored the actions on the other side.

Alluria went next, jumping as high as she could and clutching onto Noval's wrist as he pulled her up. When she had climbed aboard, she began her ascent using the magnetic climbers. The process repeated until all members of the squad had jumped onto the walker's feet. Kavis had waited until last, jumping on unassisted and beginning to climb.

The clunking of the climbers wasn't as loud as Kavis had anticipated but the squad still synced up their movements with the AT-AT's thunderous steps anyway.

It was slow progress climbing up the beast's outer hull. A few short minutes later, Kavis reached the top where the rest of his squad met him, crowding around the observation hatch Daws had pointed out from the ground. Shynan held a datapad in her hands that was plugged into the outer control panel of the hatch; she was working her way to unlocking it.

"Almost…" she said.

With a hiss, the hatches seals popped and the rest of the team members brandished their weapons. Noval threw back the hatch and peered in through his rifle's scope. "Clear," he said.

Daws climbed into the hatch and disappeared out of sight. A few seconds later, he was on the comlink. "No forces in sight."

Kavis climbed in next. Followed by Alluria. One by one they piled in, Noval closing the hatch behind him as he descended the ladder. The seven had amassed in the crew bay and began planning their next move.

"The lower level has an access tube that leads straight into the cockpit," Daws explained. "There's a hatch on either side of the tube and, if they're unlocked, we can sneak on through without them hearing anything. If they're locked, we'll either have to slice our way in or we'll have to blow our way in."

"Do we have the equipment to blow it open?" Volsh asked.

"If it comes to that," Kavis emphasised, "we've got rolls of thermal tape we'll be able to use. It should be strong enough to burn through the hatches." He glanced at Daws who nodded. Kavis was thankful for Daws' military experience. "Spar, you go back up to the observation hatch and keep watch. We'll need a warning if extra Imperials show up. As for the rest of us, once we get to those hatches, Daws and Noval will take control of this thing and we'll destroy that facility." He took a look at the group. "Let's do this."

Spar did as he was told and climbed up the ladder back towards the hatch that led to the outside of the hull. The rest of the team moved on.

They found the hatch to the lower level and descended into the large crew bay. It had enough space for tens of people to stand shoulder to shoulder. There were also a dozen seats set against the hull of the walker, each with racks for blaster rifles and other equipment. Kavis hadn't imagined the inside of an AT-AT to have so much room.

Daws crouched down next to the controls of the hatch that led to the cockpit. "Both doors are unlocked," he said.

"I'll go first," Kavis said. He handed his blaster rifle to Noval and pulled a pistol from the holster on his hip. With a nod at Daws, he began crouching through the first of the doors, the second door opening almost as soon as he stepped one foot into the tunnel.

He became aware that the rest of the squad couldn't help but peer through the open access hatch.

An Imperial Officer was standing with his hands atop the two seats that housed the AT-AT drivers. Static and crackled voices from the communication channels filtered through but the words were completely unintelligible.

He stepped out to the other side of the tube without a single disturbance and was now standing behind the Officer. In one swift motion, he wrapped his left arm around the Officer's neck, making sure to cover his mouth, and levelled the pistol at the heads of the AT-AT drivers. He pulled the trigger and in quick succession the two drivers slumped over in their seats. The Officer was trying to retaliate, struggling against Kavis' strong grip. The Officer threw his helmeted head back, crunching into Kavis' nose and pushing him back into the wall.

Kavis had underestimated the Officer who was stronger than he had given him credit for.

With a thunk, Kavis hit the wall, his wrist striking a panel and forcing him to drop the pistol. Kavis could feel the Officer reaching for the blaster on his hip. He grabbed the Officer's wrist and tried to aim the weapon back towards the Officer's helmeted head. The Officer threw his head back again, hitting Kavis in the cheekbone and causing his grip to loosen for a fraction of a second, long enough for the Officer to twist the blaster towards Kavis' body.

The pistol fired twice, the first shot barely clipping the thick clothing Kavis was wearing, the second tearing straight through and piercing his abdomen.

All of a sudden, the Officer's body slumped.

Kavis didn't even hear the blaster shot the felled him, but he could just barely make out the smoking barrel of Noval's blaster pistol.

He felt almost weightless as he leant against the wall at his back. He winced in pain as he slid down to the floor of the cockpit, his hand hard against the wound trying to alleviate the pain – it didn't help.

When he opened his eyes again, through his blurring vision, he could barely make out Noval and Daws in the seats of the cockpit trying to control the lumbering beast. He blinked slowly and this time when his eyes opened, he was greeted by the soothing face of Alluria. He could see her lips moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying.

With what little strength he could muster, Kavis opened his mouth. He tried to speak.

His eyes closed involuntarily and the world went dark.

There was no pain and the lights were blinding.

It took a few moments for him to realise that his eyes were open and that he was looking up towards a ceiling with bright illumination strips – or at least, to him they seemed bright. He gradually become more aware of his body and his surroundings. He could feel a tight wrap around his waist and knew that he was lying down on his back. He closed his eyes and focused, feeling his fingers move. They were stiff, but they moved.

At that moment, he realised something had a soft grip on his left hand.

He turned his head – which took more effort than he thought it would – to see the face of Alluria peacefully resting. She had her lips slightly parted and her cheek was resting on top of her arm.

He smiled and squeezed his fingers again.

Alluria woke slowly, her big brown eyes looking directly into Kavis'. Her whole face lit up. "Hey, you're awake," she said softly.

He suddenly remembered. "The mission!" His hoarse voice barely eked the words out. He tried to sit up but his body wouldn't let him. "What happened to the mission?"

Alluria gently pushed him back against the bed and she quietly hushed him. "It's okay. Everything went well. We destroyed the facility. We were all out of there by the time the Empire found out they had lost the walker."

"Everyone got out okay?" His chest was heaving and his breathing laboured, but he was settling.

"We all got out okay, there's no need to worry."

He sighed. "Have I been here long?" He finally asked.

"A few weeks. That's why you're feeling so stiff."

He looked up to the ceiling and breathed a few deep breaths. When he returned his gaze, he asked "What are you doing here?"

Her face flushed a pale red. "I was waiting for you to wake up. After what you said, I didn't have a choice."

Kavis tried to think back. He must have been visibly confused because Alluria spoke again.

"You don't remember?"

He shook his head slowly.

She took his hand gently in both of hers, her thumb stroking the back of his palm.

Kavis cast his mind back deep into his memories. He remembered seeing Noval and Daws piloting the walker and seeing Alluria tending to his wounds. He remembered his vision fading and opening his mouth. And then it hit him.

"I told you, didn't I?" He said.

She nodded.

"I told you how I feel?"

She nodded again.

This time it was Kavis who's face went red.

"I'm glad you told me," Alluria said, gently kissing the back of his hand. "Because I feel the same way about you."

"You do?"

Her touch was soft and he could see in her eyes that the words he spoke had meant a lot to her and that the words she had spoken were with her whole heart. "It's just a shame that it took you getting shot to confess your feelings."

Kavis had an embarrassed smile, but it was very quickly replaced by a real one when his gaze caught hers.

"You might be in here for a while, but when you do, I was thinking that we could talk a bit more. And hopefully this time, you remember it."

He chuckled but it gave way to a small cough. When the cough subsided, he gently placed his hand on top of hers. "I'd like that," he said.

Alluria stood up and gently gave him a kiss on the head. "Get some rest."

He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting back into unconsciousness. This time when he fell unconscious, he knew he was smiling.

* * *

_This was the first time I'd ever had to crunch for a story and for a deadline, even though the deadline was self-imposed. As a result, I definitely feel that there are some parts to this story that aren't perfect and that I would go back and change having had more time to write._

_That said, this is part of the challenge. Once it has been written and posted, I'm not allowing myself to go back and make changes, so they will exist as they are - at least for a time._

_Anyway, onto the next!_

_~ Alex_


	4. ARC

Republic Assault Ship "Determination"

21 Years Before the Battle of Yavin

. . .

The sound of their armoured boots on durasteel reverberated throughout the hangar bay of the Republic Assault Ship.

From behind the t-shaped visor of his helmet, he watched as troopers turned their heads one by one until he could feel their gazes being drawn to the trio of ARCs as they descended the Nu-class Shuttle's boarding ramp. It was the same look he'd had when he first saw an ARC trooper.

It was as if the presence of an ARC demanded their attention.

ARC troopers were still an uncommon sight in the Grand Army of the Republic, even after being at war for a little over one standard year. Very few troopers had been initially trained as ARCs and, up to this point, even fewer had achieved the position through promotion. Prior to becoming an ARC himself, Raze had only come across two ARC troopers in his career as a soldier, neither of which he had seen again after their mission had been complete. Once he had idolised them and now he was wearing the prototype armour available exclusively to ARC troopers.

It was a surreal feeling.

They were greeted by a man standing a few metres back from the bottom of the ramp. He was an officer wearing the distinctive olive-green uniform of the Republic Navy. Judging by the rank plaque worn on the officer's left breast, he wasn't just an officer but was in fact an Admiral. The Admiral's appearance was clean and tidy, his outfit crisp and his boots polished. He kept his light blonde hair short and his chin was as if it had been freshly shaved. He greeted the trio with a nod. "Welcome back, men," he said in his slick voice. Without waiting for a response, he held out his hand in which sat a holo communicator. "I was asked to meet you on arrival. The General wants to speak with you."

A small blue hologram stood on the device in the Admiral's hand.

The hologram figure displayed a human that was of average height with a rather fit build, his arms folded across his chest. He had dark hair that was greying around his temples, and was standing a few centimetres tall – it looked as though he'd received a shock from a power socket. His hair was complimented with stubble that was more than a few days old. His eyes we're tired, exhausted even. The few plates of armour he wore that covered his arms and lower legs were accompanied by a combat robe that distinguished the man as a Jedi, one Raze was particularly familiar with.

The trio stood to attention.

"General Deymas." Crest was at the forefront, standing slightly ahead of his two comrades, Raze on his right side and Flash on his left.

"Boys," he replied with a nod. His voice was deep and gravelly, familiar. "It's nice to have you back."

"Good to be back, General," Flash said.

"Unfortunately," he started with a sigh, his shoulders dropping, "you aren't going to have time to enjoy being back. You're going to be down here with us planet-side ASAP."

"What's the mission, General?" Raze asked.

"The 419th are dug in deep and have been for just over two weeks. Every time we make ground on one front, we lose on another – we take one step forward but then we get pushed one step back. We're running out of time and options." He paused, though briefly. "The plan is for the three of you to get around them and take out their leader by any means necessary."

"Assassination?" Crest asked.

"It doesn't need to come to that. If you can find a way in and capture him, we can force them to surrender. If that's not the case…" He let the words trail off but the meaning was heavily implied.

"We won't let you down, General," Crest said, offering a salute – Flash and Raze followed suit.

General Deymas smiled. "I know you won't." With a nod of his head, the blue hologram shimmered and disappeared.

"Once the three of you have begun your descent to Grearga, I'll send all the information the General has given to me to pass on to you about your target and where he's holed up," Admiral Tridal said. "You should have all you need to complete your mission."

"Thank you, Admiral," Crest said as he turned and began up the boarding ramp once more. Once inside, both Flash and Crest had removed their helmets and were climbing into the pilot thrones. The seats retracted until they were nestled nicely into the cockpit at which point Raze stepped into the cargo hold.

The maroon-hulled shuttle lifted with a slight shudder and took off through the Determination's magnetic field. Within moments, the datapad on Raze's belt began to chime.

"Incoming transmission," Raze said.

"What are the details?" Flash asked.

"The target is an Aqualish General named Sonto Beel. Apparently, he's been hiding out in a command centre the Seppies have established for their ground forces. Tight security, well-armed and a legion of droids to boot."

"What are you thinking, Raze?" Crest asked.

Raze knew that Crest would already be formulating a plan – he was a natural born leader and played the role well. He could be incredibly independent but that didn't stop him from asking others about their plans and their ideas. He often found that receiving outside perspectives were incredibly insightful.

"We won't be able to brute force our way in, it's most likely going to have to be a covert op. Find the least guarded position, sneak our way into the compound and complete the objective that way. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like our boys know exactly where he's hiding in this fortress, so we'll have to find him the old fashion way."

Crest gave a sound of approval and continued piloting the shuttle. In the meantime, Raze memorised the layout of the facility they would be assaulting. Within a few short minutes, they had breached the atmosphere and were soaring above the metropolis that housed the Separatist base.

Raze listened as Crest and Flash conversed about finding somewhere to land that was close enough to ingress but far enough that they wouldn't get picked up by any scanners the enemy may have had. It took little more than three standard minutes before they had found a building where they could safely set the shuttle down. He grabbed one of the jetpacks off the wall and hoisted it onto his shoulders, fixing it to the plate on his back.

Although the Nu-class Shuttle would've been picked up by enemy scanners, individuals with jetpacks were small enough that they wouldn't be detected – anti-air systems weren't able to detect anything smaller than a one-man fighter.

Crest and Flash followed Raze down the lowered ramp and stood on the edge of the building facing the enemy stronghold.

"Alright," Raze started, lowering the rangefinder on his helmet. "The schematics we were given were anything from complete. That being said, there's an east-facing outcrop where we should be able to cut our way through and get in undetected."

"Nice little landing pad, easy access," Crest commented. "I take it they weren't expecting jetpacks."

"They never do," Flash added.

"Let's try and get over with this fast," Crest said. "I want to get back to the Determination and have a hot meal."

"I second that."

"A hot shower would be nice, too," Raze said.

Crest turned his head towards his two comrades. Raze could tell by the tone of his voice that he had a smirk. "Last one back gets neither." Before Raze or Flash could protest, Crest leapt and dove off the building. The two were stunned for a brief moment but regathered and followed Crest, activating their jetpacks and soaring off towards the compound.

It took no time at all for the trio to cover the kilometre distance to the landing zone – Crest had of course landed first and had proceeded to use a cutting torch to carve out a hole in the windows on an adjacent wall. Flash landed next, followed closely by Raze.

"This would be a lot easier if we had a Jedi with us," Crest said.

"You know the Jedi," Flash said. "Subtlety isn't their strong suit."

It took a little longer than they would have liked but they climbed through the now removed glass pane.

The interior of the facility was much the same as any other military vessel – grey walls and polished floors with the occasional bulkhead door for good measure.

"Keep your wits about you," Crest said. "If we get spotted, this whole place is going to come down on top of us. Split up and we'll be able to maximise coverage."

Raze and Flash nodded and began moving through the corridors, splitting up at the first fork in the road they came to. On most missions, splitting up would be considered a bad idea due to strength in numbers, however it was easier to maintain a smaller profile and sneak around undetected when only one pair of boots was moving down a hallway – it made hiding easier, too.

The sound of metal footsteps coming his way made Raze duck behind one of the outcrops in the wall that housed a bulkhead door. From around the corner, a pair of B1 battle droids stomped past and continued patrolling the hallway walking perpendicular to the wall Raze hid behind. His mind began to race: does he take out the droids, or let them walk by? If he took them out, their remains could be discovered by another patrol. If he left them, however, they could cause problems later. He decided to let them continue on their way and used the keypad on his wrist to send a ping to his comrades, alerting them to the presence of a patrol.

With the patrol stalking off down the corridor, Raze decided to take the path to the right in the direction from which the droids had come from. It was apparently the smart choice as he ran into no more resistance, though he had received several pings from his comrades. He had been in and out of rooms hoping to catch a glimpse of the target but to no avail.

"Is anyone else concerned about how unpopulated this place is at the moment?" Raze asked.

"It's possible that the Seppie's forces have been stretched pretty thin," Flash replied. "General Deymas was talking about how intensive the battle has been."

Raze tapped a control panel beside a doorway and the door slid open. As he peered inside, he came face to face with a pair of battle droids that were staring him in the face. The two beige figures were clearly just as surprised as he was. He quickly whipped out his blaster pistol with his free hand and fired into their metal bodies, both collapsing to the floor within seconds.

Crisis averted, he thought.

Raze looked up from the smoking skeletal figures and saw a hunched figure standing behind a desk at the far end of the room. Instinctively, Raze held up his sidearms and trained them on the being's head but not before the figure could slam a button on his desk.

An alarm sounded and the lights turned red.

It was the Aqualish they had come for. He was a short being, dark skin covering his body over which he wore a long tan coloured robe. All four of his shiny black eyes were now staring at the blasters Raze held in his hands but he didn't take his hand off the desk.

"Don't think you're getting out of here alive, clone." He spat the word with his low, rumbling voice.

Without thinking, Raze ran into the room and threw his arm at Sonto Beel, knocking him off balance before wrapping his arm around the creature's neck and holding a blaster to his back.

"I'm sure your own droids won't fire at their leader, would they?" Raze said.

The Aqualish looked unperturbed. "Listen, clone. My life is insignificant to the Separatist cause. You can kill me but there'll be a thousand people to take my place and continue leading the armies against the dying Republic."

Raze could hear the clanging of metallic feet converging on his position. He activated the comlink in his helmet. "I've got the hostage. I'm going to need help getting out of here."

On the other end of the link, he heard countless blaster shots. "Having a bit of trouble here," Flash said.

Crest wasn't fairing much better. "Do whatever you have to in order to get him out of here. We'll meet up at the shuttle."

Raze grunted in acknowledgement and adjusted his grip on the shorter figure as a squad of battle droids became visible in the doorway. He wrapped his arm around the Aqualish's neck a little tighter and trained the blaster in his free hand on the door.

"Fire!" He barked.

The droids didn't hesitate.

The squadron unleashed a torrent of fire that tore through the Aqualish's body. Sonto Beel went limp in Raze's arm.

Raze didn't think the Aqualish would actually order his own troops to fire on himself. He was taken aback by the action and had to think quickly. He regathered himself and hid behind Sonto Beel's lifeless body as best he could. He fired into the droids, knocking a few of them to the ground but they were quickly replaced by more. He fired again. Every time he took out the first few droids, it gave him a small window of opportunity. This time, he dropped Sonto Beel's body and fired, using his now free hand to access the computer on the leader's desk. His concentration was split. He turned his attention back to the computer for a single moment and a droid managed to fire a lucky shot that hit his shoulder pad, but he refused to waver. A few seconds later, he issued the command that deactivated the droids.

As if a shock wave had been sent out through the building, droids began to deactivate where they stood. Some fell, some continued to remain on their feet.

Raze leant back against the wall and slid down it, allowing himself a brief moment to catch his breath. He removed the armour plate on his left shoulder and began to peel back the body suit while he activated his comlink.

"Target has been eliminated," he said with laboured breaths.

He pulled out a small bacta pad from his utility belt and began applying it to the injured section of his shoulder where the blaster bolt had pierced the armour and seared his skin. He winced as the healing properties of the bacta stung briefly. It took him a second longer than it should have to realise he hadn't heard back from his brothers.

"Repeat. Target has been eliminated."

He waited.

"Flash. Crest."

Silence.

"Come on, don't do this to me," he said. "Flash. Crest."

There was still no answer. All he could do was assume the worst.

A small burst of static and his comlink sprang to life. "-is anyone reading me?" It was the voice of General Deymas.

"This is ARC trooper thirty-nine-thirty-eight. I read you, General."

"Raze?"

"Yes, sir."

"I take it the mission was successful?"

Raze paused for a breath. "It would appear so, sir."

"Where's Flash and Crest?"

"Missing in action, sir."

"Oh." He could hear the shift in the General's tone. "I'm sending a shuttle to your position. Sit tight, Raze. It's time you came home."

"With all due respect, sir, I would like to find my brothers."

"I would expect nothing less. I'll send some men to help you look for them."

He began back tracking through the Separatist base. Within five minutes, he had found the point where he had split up from Flash but from then on it was the same labyrinth he had snuck through not twenty minutes ago. He had received a communication from a Sergeant that was assisting him with searching the facility – they were making their way through the lower floor and towards his position.

His comlink chimed a moment later. "Sir, this is see-tee-nineteen-dash-forty-five-forty-five," the voice said. "We've found the body of ARC trooper thirty-nine-twenty-seven." It was Flash.

The news would have hit harder if he wasn't staring at Crest's body in front of him. The body was propped up against the wall with a dozen blaster shots in his torso. He'd been backed into a corner and had lost the fight.

Raze refused to let a tear fall as he turned and walked away. "Acknowledged. I've found ARC trooper thirty-eight-oh-one."

"I'm sorry, sir," the trooper said.

"On route to the shuttle now." He shut off the link and took one look back at his fallen brother.

As he boarded the shuttle, he was met by a dozen men. They all had helmets tucked under their arms and bowed their heads slightly as he walked past, some of them offering pats on his shoulder. He walked to the back corner of the shuttle and sat on one of the benches. He pulled off his helmet, turning it over in his gloved hands and gazing into the t-shaped visor. When he saw his reflection in the black visor, he felt a surge of rage and sadness. He knew it was because he wasn't quick enough that his brothers had died. If he had acted faster, Sonto Beel never would have been able to set off the alarm that flooded the facility with droids.

It was his own fault that Flash and Crest lost their lives.

That was something he was never going to forget.

* * *

_I would consider myself pretty well-versed in writing stories about Clone Troopers, mostly because it's where I started almost 12 years ago. The first Star Wars story I ever wrote was about Clone Troopers, and even up until my last big writing project, they are who I write about more often than not._

_I just find that they are easy to write about and having grown up watching and reading about them, I feel like I can write them pretty well._

_That said, like my last story, I feel this one is lacking. Maybe it's just the whole "you are your own worst critic" thing, but maybe not._

_Either way, I'm hoping you enjoyed it._

_~ Alex_


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